


Infamous Ink

by ConsultingWriter



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles has a 'tramp stamp', Charles has a tattoo, Erik is a Shark, M/M, This was really just an excuse for tattoo porn, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1998051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriter/pseuds/ConsultingWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles has an embarrassing tattoo and a date with the no-nonsense, always professional, and terribly handsome Erik Lehnsherr. </p><p> </p><p>  <i> Tonight, however, he had a date. One Erik Lehnsherr, the man Charles has been stupidly crushing on since they’d shared a freshmen English class. Erik was sharp, silent, and professional, and Charles had finally managed to work up the courage to ask the other man on a date. And Erik had agreed.</i><br/><i>Which was why, at three o’clock on a Friday afternoon, Charles was standing in front of a mirror, back to the glass and spine twisted to get a good look, trying to cover the permanent reminder of his wild youth and why he never went out drinking alone any more.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Infamous Ink

**Author's Note:**

> So, I find tattoos (good tattoos, anyway) really sexy. So does Erik, apparently. 
> 
> Is there a name for this kind of kink/fetish (I'm not sure what the difference is, if someone does know can you explain it to me?) but I hop you'll enjoy my extremely rushed, unbeta'd tattoo porn.

It wasn’t that Charles was ashamed of his tattoo (it had grown on him quite a bit, after the initial despair and shock of waking up hung-over and freshly inked had worn off. He liked it enough to not try laser removal, at any rate) but it was a little, well, embarrassing. What kind of professional twenty-six year old professor had a _tramp stamp_? Not a sleeve or a typically cliché tribal tat, but an honest to goodness hearts-and-flowing-lines tramp stamp.

The aforementioned tattoo sat right at the top of the curve of his ass and was about an inch and a half in height. Even though it usually hidden beneath his slacks—and no, they weren’t ‘old man jeans’ thank you very much Raven—and a tucked in cardigan.

Tonight, however, he had a date. One Erik Lehnsherr, the man Charles has been stupidly crushing on since they’d shared a freshmen English class. Erik was sharp, silent, and professional, and Charles had finally managed to work up the courage to ask the other man on a date. And Erik had agreed.

Which was why, at three o’clock on a Friday afternoon, Charles was standing in front of a mirror, back to the glass and spine twisted to get a good look, trying to cover the permanent reminder of his wild youth and why he never went out drinking alone any more.

Make-up and a can of hairspray sat innocently on the counter as Charles carefully applied layer after layer of first eye-shadow and hairspray and then concealer. Generally Charles didn’t bother to cover his tattoo, it had been a long time since he’d had time for spur of the moment one night stands (nowadays all his sex was planned with either dates or planned outings to bars with friends—and he was careful to cover the tattoo before either scenario and even those didn’t happen very often anymore) but that afternoon he was careful about it.

He wasn’t sure if Erik was the type of man to take him to bed on the first date, but Charles wanted to be ready just in case (because how much of a mood killer was it to insist that his button down stay fully buttoned and on his person during the middle of sex?). He kind of hoped that Erik was that kind of man, or at least Charles hoped that Erik would be that kind of man for _him_.  

Charles ran a finger through the dried hairspray-make-up blend, making sure nothing would smear off. The make-up stayed, neither smearing nor coming away on his finger. Perfect.

With that he tucked the make-up away, hiding it in his bathroom linens closet behind the stack of towels, and went to get dressed. Erik wouldn’t be by to pick him up until six, but Charles thought that it might just take him that long to find an outfit that would work for the evening—and if anyone accused Charles of having already spent the previous week trying on outfit after outfit trying to find the perfect combination to wear, well, he couldn’t truthfully deny it.

Once dressed in suitable attire—he hadn’t managed to find _the_ outfit, but he’d finally settled on something that he knew fell just ahead of ‘good enough’—Charles settled on his couch with a stack of pop quizzes and set to work grading them, if he did end up spending the night (or more, he desperately hoped for more) he wanted to be able to say that he’d done _something_ work related over the weekend.

The doorbell rings at exactly six o’clock and Charles almost trips over himself answering it. Erik stands in the doorway with a single flower—it wasn’t a rose, but Charles didn’t know enough about flowers to know what kind it was—looking as handsome as the devil.

Erik grinned a sharp little twitch of the lips and handed Charles the flower, making sure their hands brushed. His hands were large and warm and Charles found himself going from ‘kind of hoping’ to ‘desperately praying’ that Erik was _that_ kind of man.

 At the end of the a nice date—the food was good but the conversation was great—Charles’s prayers were answered; Erik was indeed that kind of man.

So the food was good, the conversation was great, but the sex? The sex was _mind blowing_.

The next morning, however, Charles pushed himself into a sitting position, took a look at the bed sheets, and wanted to cry.

The sheets were covered with streaks of light pink and light tan, and when he reached around to touch his lower back his skin felt smooth and natural. His make-up had come off.

He buried his head in his hands, fuck. Erik was never going to ask him for a repeat of last night (and Charles wasn’t just thinking about the fantastic sex, either) and Charles felt a bit sick with embarrassment. Not even Raven knew about the tattoo (and keeping it a secret for years from her had been a miracle in itself) and now Erik knew. Beautiful, professional to a fault, cock-the-size-of-an-anaconda, Erik knew he had a tramp stamp.

Charles wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment.

Before he could roll himself out of the bed to look for his clothes, Erik faked a cough from his spot at the door.

The other man was leaning casually on the doorjamb, arms folded and one leg crossed over the other, only wearing a pair of loose flannel bottoms.

"If you're trying to hide your ink, I saw some of it this morning." Erik was as blunt as always and Charles wanted to die of embarrassment, just a bit.

Then Erik's lips stretched into a filthy smile and Charles felt his heart sputter.

"Who knew you had it in you, Charles," he practically _prowled_ towards the bed, the purr in his voice making his accent that much deeper. Charles couldn't remember ever being so aroused in his life.

"I mean," Erik continued, completely oblivious to what he was doing to Charles " _I_ certainly never expected something so...." he trailed off and raked his heated gaze over Charles "exciting."

Charles shrugged, reaching for a nonchalance he was nowhere near feeling "Would it dim your, ah, appreciation to know I had no intention of ever getting a tattoo?"

Erik stopped at the foot of the bed and cocked an eyebrow up.

Charles swallowed "I was stupidly drunk and by myself when I got it."

Erik chuckled and husked out a commanding "Roll over."

Charles shimmied down the bed but pauses when he started to twist to roll over, "Why?"

Erik had a knee hiked up on the bed and both hands planted at Charles's ankles, making to crawl up the sheets "Because," he explained slowly, just short of patronizing "I want to get a better look," he licked his lips again and Charles quickly rolled onto his stomach.

Before he could feel completely exposed (and he'd never felt more naked then he did at that moment, under Erik's gaze as it raked down his back) Erik let out a horse, needy groan.

Fingers hesitantly traced the lines that marked the small of his back.

Charles wondered what about his tattoo had pulled that sound from the other. He liked his tattoo, it was nicely done with smooth lines and bright colors (it was a slight pride point for Charles that, even being completely off his face drunk, he'd managed to find such a great artist). The tattoo itself was a light pink heart wrapped in blue ribbons, on the ribbons was a continuous golden double helix. The ribbons stretched out from the heart towards his hips and created the top arch of a set of artistically stylized wings.

“God,” Erik breathed and his head was close enough that Charles could feel the other man’s breath ghosting along his lower back “God,” he groaned again.

“Charles, can I,” he stopped for a minute and Charles lightly bucked his hips up, tapping the other’s chin to nudge him on “Your tattoo, can I,” he paused again.

“Yeah,” Charles whispered breathlessly, he didn’t know what Erik wanted to do, but whatever it was, it was making Erik hot under the proverbial collar and Charles would probably be okay with anything that made the usually stoic Erik Lehnsherr sound like that.

He wasn’t prepared for Erik to dip down and nuzzle at his tattoo. He wasn’t prepared for the soft touch of flesh that wasn’t his own hand to press down and smooth itself along the ink on his skin.

Before he knew what was happening, something soft, wet, and warm striped across his skin. A shock went through his system and his toes curled up, grasping the sheets that covered his feet, in pleasure. Charles could swear he felt every bud on Erik’s tongue rasping across his skin.

He wanted to arch away and buck up into it at the same time, the skin of his lower back had been stunningly sensitive ever since he’d gotten the tattoo and the feeling of Erik’s tongue slowly tracing the lines of ink was almost too much. It also wasn’t nearly enough.

Charles arched into the other man, pushing his ass towards him. Arms reached around his hips and pulled him to his knees as Erik leaned some of his weight onto Charles, who groaned at the dual sensation of heat at his back and weight being pressed down upon him. He levered himself onto hips elbows and let his head fall down, looking underneath his body, past the beginnings of his erection and to Erik’s cock, which was hard and starting to leak pre-come from the tip.

All the while Erik was placing nips and kisses along the tattoo, stopping every once in a while to suck at one spot or another before he’d continue in his quest.

Charles panted at the feeling, feeling overly sensitive, and curled his fingers into the sheets. He’d never had a partner who had paid so much attention to any part of him or his body. He felt worshipped and he needed more.

Erik complied with his demand of ‘more’ by opening his mouth wider on Charles’s skin and sucking a spot of it up and into his mouth. Charles gasped at the feeling and bucked.

“Again,” he panted out, he repeated the demand again and again, until he was sure Erik’s mouth was sore. He didn’t care and the other man didn’t stop.

“Charles,” Erik groaned out against his skin “Sexy little minx, wanna fuck you so hard,” it was dazed and if Charles had the brain capacity to care, he would’ve wondered if Erik even knew he was speaking out loud.

“Erik,” Charles gasped, he could feel his pleasure building in his stomach and spreading along his limbs but he couldn’t quite get there with what Erik was doing, he couldn’t quite reach an orgasm “Erik, come up here, please,” he managed to get out and Erik obeyed, slithering up Charles’s body.

He planted a kiss behind Charles’s ear and worked his way down his throat and back up while a hand stroked down Charles’s back and across his ass, down to his entrance. He prodded lightly before moving his hand to grab for the lube that still sat on the nightstand from the night before.

Charles was still stretched wide enough that one finger, and then two, sunk into his body easily. He didn’t let Erik get to a third finger.

“Now,” he demanded, pushing back against Erik hard “Get in me now or get out off of me.”

He screamed when Erik chose the first, he could feel the other man’s chuckles vibrating against his back.

Erik’s pace was brutal and hurried; as if he was too wound up to even think about starting off slow and teasing. Charles egged him on with snarls of ‘harder’ and ‘faster’ between a mantra of ‘yes, yes, yes, Erik, yes, yes, fuck yes.’

Charles couldn’t think of anything other than the pressure of Erik in and around him as he bucked back, driving himself into the other’s powerful thrusts.

A hand pressed lightly against his tattoo and Charles let out a high pitched whine, too much, it was too much.

The hand skirted around his hip and down to his nearly painful erection. He lunged forward, pumping into the slicked tunnel before lurching backwards to meet Erik’s wild thrusts.

He could feel the white heat shooting up and down his spine, settling at the base, and knew it wouldn’t be long. Two, three, four more pumps of Erik’s hand and Charles’s world exploded, vision whiting as he arched into his orgasm. Seconds later he could feel Erik following, filling him with his seed.

It took a minute for Charles to become aware of something besides the beating of his own heart thundering in his ears, and when he did he realized that his arms and legs had given out and that he was laying sprawled in the mess of his own come with Erik laying heavily on his back drawing in deep heaving breaths.

It took a few more minutes for the other to gather himself enough to roll himself off of Charles, but when he did the brunette rolled with him, curling into Erik’s body and resting his head on a sweaty shoulder.

“So,” Charles said, mirth coloring his tone “I guess that means you don’t mind my tattoo?”

Erik turned his head to look at him “Charles,” he said seriously, fingers stroking lightly at Charles’s lower back “You’re cute little tramp stamp is the most arousing thing I’ve ever seen.”

Charles was torn between snorting at the fact that the words ‘tramp stamp’ had just fallen from Erik Lehnsherr’s lips and flushing at the rest. Really? He found Charles’s tattoo arousing?

When he voiced the question, Erik’s hand moved up to tug lightly at his curling mass of sweat soaked locks “Really, if you need more conformation, I can spend all weekend proving it to you.”

Charles pushed himself to hover over the other “Mm, I might need a little longer than that, you know how scientists are; we like to double and triple check our data.”

Erik’s lips stretched into a wide, shark like, smile “Good, that’s good, because I was going to ask how you felt about grabbing dinner again next Friday?”

Charles lowered his head to brush a kiss across Erik’s lips “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Feel free to follow me on tumblr at NoSwordsForLittleDragons.tumblr.com


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